


Melancholy Reverie

by SeaMint



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, a study of sorts, at least i think it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 05:21:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10404837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeaMint/pseuds/SeaMint
Summary: A glimpse of Tsukkiyama's thoughts on each other, and their relationship.





	1. Tsukishima.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tsukishima's side of the story.

Tsukishima's probably known for a long time now. Maybe even since the beginning. Though he couldn’t point a finger on it. There was something about Yamaguchi, something about his subjectively short, freckled friend that no one else had. 

It’s not as if he’s the only one, though. Tsukishima’s sure there are other people out there who, like he, are painfully and ridiculously in love with Yamaguchi.

He was beside Tsukishima right now, quietly eating their lunch on the rooftop, and Tsukishima couldn’t help himself but stare as Yamaguchi’s dark-brown eyes were lit up by the afternoon sun. Yamaguchi had cake for breakfast today, Tsukishima noted as Yamaguchi said so.

Tsukishima’s mind, at this point, began to aimlessly wander. He sees himself chuckle at Yamaguchi, deep inside the recesses of his mind. There’s a pause, in thought, in hearing, and Tsukishima finds the world silent for a while. Cake for breakfast, Tsukishima repeated in his head. There’s an inward smile. He wonders what it would taste like to kiss someone after cake.

“Tsukki, lunch is over. We should get back.”

There’s a hand on his sleeve. It tugs him upwards, and back to the classrooms. 

The last few periods fly past like a breeze.

* * *

 The ball almost zooms past him. Almost. His hand, on instinct developed after almost a year of playing middle blocker, moves backwards before the ball is out of his hand’s reach. He falls, and in mid-air the sound of his voice bellowing “one touch” reaches his ears. He stumbles backwards as his feet lands on the ground, taking his attention back to the practice match. 

From the other side of the net, he sees Yamaguchi, playing at a level less of those of his teammates, but at a good one nonetheless. Tsukishima feels baseless, unexplained pride swell in his core. His eyes track the opposing team’s players running around the court, deducing Tanaka would be spiking next. His not-so-guess was correct, as no other spiker ran up but him; but he also spots Kageyama, eyeing the ball a little differently, also noticing he’s a little too close to the net, so he adjusts himself, flinging himself almost recklessly, and jumps.

 He stops the dump, but it wasn’t a block. Rather, it was a push. His elbows were bent as it made the ball go backwards into Kageyama’s side of the court. Anything after that was a blur, as Tsukishima found himself facing the ceiling, which was a little higher than it was before. 

There was a moment of celebration, but a quick interruption, and Sugawara helps him up. There’s Yamaguchi, Tsukishima notes, standing behind the silver-haired third year. There’s a mandatory question of reassurance, to which Tsukishima responds with a nod. Daichi calls for a break, and Tsukishima leads Yamaguchi to their usual wall of cynical comments, grabbing a bottle from Kiyoko on the way.

Tsukishima, perhaps, gets a little too lost in conversation. Yamaguchi makes a joke about Kageyama, which he’s not too confident to say in front of the short-fused setter. Tsukishima laughs heartily, the kind of laugh he reserved only for when he’s alone with Yamaguchi, as he genuinely finds the joke funny, and he forgets he was in the gym.

The laugh was a little too boisterous, and it earns the two of them stares. It also earns them a ball that grazes Tsukishima’s ear, courtesy of Kageyama, who surprisingly heard the joke. Hinata shouts about how he didn’t know Tsukishima can laugh. It’s a steely glare from such warm-coloured irises, but the team is used to it by now.

 Tsukishima continues his conversation with Yamaguchi, both of them just chuckling to themselves and each other. Daichi calls them back in, and Tsukishima makes a comment to Yamaguchi about how he wants to go home.

It was true, because going home means going home with Yamaguchi.

* * *

 

The road is silent, Yamaguchi had left. Tsukishima is left to his own toxic thoughts. 

By now Tsukishima would have most definitely put his headphones on in a slightly fruitful attempt to drown out those little voices, but he had forgotten his pair at home. This wasn’t a rare occurrence, although it wasn’t a very common one either. Tsukishima’s mind begins to spiral, dwindling down to thoughts deeper and deeper in his mind, until his head started to spin. Spinning around and around, his surroundings were a blur. Tsukishima, amidst all of it, took bitter, thoughtless steps forward. 

Perhaps, he thought, if he let them wonder, it’d go someplace good. If you hit rock bottom, the only place to go would be up. And Tsukishima’s sure his thoughts are now low beyond low. He was right.

His mind had reached neutral grounds, thinking about school. Thinking about classes. Thinking about his classmates. He’s classmates with Yamaguchi, he ponders.Yamaguchi’s a good friend. Tsukishima recalls a movie he watched with him once. It had zombies in it. Yamaguchi was so scared, Tsukishima had been timidly asked to hold hands with him, and they did so in the dark of the theatre. 

Yamaguchi, he thinks, would probably die alone in an apocalypse. Not the first one to do so, Tsukishima knows this, but somewhere in the middle of the movie with the emotional deaths that seem too forced inside the movie for plot. Yamaguchi’s death, he’s sure, would be an emotional one for Tsukishima. Of course, Yamaguchi would die a lot later, near the conclusion where all anyone would care about was that the main character would survive or not, if Tsukishima had been there to help. Tsukishima, though, would have a 50-50 chance of being there in the first place. 

Yamaguchi, Tsukishima remembers, had only been his friend in the first place because Tsukishima had driven off a group of boys making fun of the younger boy. Yamaguchi was persistent in following him around, trying to keep the fact that he was doing so subtle. Yamaguchi by now has become such an important part of Tsukishima’s life, that saying Tsukishima was fond of Yamaguchi would be an understatement. 

Tsukishima took a step in a puddle, the water seeping into his socks and the ends of his trousers. 

 Tsukishima would be guilty, perhaps, of knowing what he feels for Yamaguchi. Though he was observant and perceptive enough to understand Yamaguchi feels the same, thoughts of doubt would stew in his head and drive him to put it off till he was really sure.

 Perhaps he’d feel a lot less guilty if he would just move on. 

 The door opened and closed as Akiteru greeted him from the couch. 

 But then again, it’s not as if he’d be thrilled if he did move on. He didn’t want to, honestly. 

 His mom calls him to dinner as he finishes dressing up.

* * *

 

 It’s midnight when it happens. Somewhere along the way he felt lazy, and not in the least bit sleepy. He’s left alone to his own thoughts, and they swirl around his pensieve of a mind like the silvery substance of a memory. He couldn’t grab his phone, get up and wake Akiteru, nor run outside for Yamaguchi; He was frozen in place. The swirling of his thoughts increased in speed, turning into a hurricane, leaving his head and himself in a state of entropy. 

 He couldn’t move. He couldn’t breathe. His lungs won’t fill with the slightest bit of air. He was choking. He wanted to vomit, and yet there was nothing to throw up. So many contradictory things happened inside of him, he needed help. Tsukishima lay on his bed, not moving a muscle. His eyes were wide, looking up at the ceiling as he couldn’t do anything else. 

 After a forever of staring, he came to a resolve. After this, he’s calling Yamaguchi. Yamaguchi needs to know. Not Akiteru, not his mother. Gradually, the choking stops. The feeling of vomiting resides. He’s left with an aching in his chest, pushing him down into an ocean of doubt. He slowly lets the feeling grow over his body, overriding the numbness he felt prior. He takes his time to get to his cellphone, picking it up as if he were playing a crane game. 

 Yamaguchi takes a little longer than usual to respond. In the meantime, Tsukishima is riskily left to his thoughts again.

 He doesn’t need to call Yamaguchi. A text would be fine; but then again, it would be easier to call, he reasons with himself. Perhaps there’s another reason why he would call Yamaguchi.

 “Hello?”

Maybe he just wants to hear his voice. One of comfort and pure concern.

“Yamaguchi, I need help.”

There’s a bitter laugh from Tsukishima’s end of the line as he relays what had just happened to him. There’s a suggestion of a panic attack.

“Unlikely.”

 Another suggestion, for Yamaguchi to come over and just be with Tsukishima. He grasps at straws.

“Yes. Please.”

* * *

Tsukishima would wake up with his arms wrapped around Yamaguchi. There’s hair on his face, too close to his mouth. It’s Yamaguchi’s. There’s primal instinct, urging him to hug tighter, and so he does. Yamaguchi relaxes slightly.

Tsukishima thinks about Yamaguchi again. There’s a certain way the sunlight coats him in bright rays, painting his features any degree lighter. His freckles become more prominent, his hair more obviously brown. Tsukishima looks over at his hand, being held by Yamaguchi. 

There’s a smile, one of puppy love and high school crushes and first times.

Tsukishima is happy. 

* * *

 

“Yamaguchi…”

It’s night time, they are in front of Yamaguchi’s house. Tsukishima has his hand on Yamaguchi’s shoulder. In one flick he can put it on his jaw, pull him in; he leaves the rest to his imagination. The progression of both their feelings have come to this point, where, if Tsukishima were to look at Yamaguchi, he’d see hope, expectancy, ecstasy. In Yamaguchi’s hand, there was a half-eaten meat bun. 

 Instead of doing what he figured they both wanted, his hand swiped up to pat Yamaguchi’s head.

“Good work today.”

There’s disappointment, Tsukishima knows, but he dare not look. A wave goodbye, a “see you tomorrow,” and the two are on their separate ways again. He’s sure, chuckling to himself in a sour manner. He wonders to himself what kissing someone after meat buns would taste like.

Maybe tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhh to clear things up, it's not a panic attack. bless


	2. Yamaguchi.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yamaguchi's side of the story.

Yamaguchi isn’t sure. He’s not sure about a lot of things, and this one might as well take the cake. There’s almost nothing redeeming about his four-eyed, giraffe-of-a-friend’s personality. Cynical, for sure. Narrow-minded, maybe. Tied to the past, debatable. 

He’s left confused, because why Tsukishima, of all people? A lot of girls would probably kill to be in his position, the only person to have an interpersonal relationship with such a jerk. Then again, Yamaguchi may be the only person patient enough to be able to deal with degrading comments and sardonic smirks for as long as he has.

“I had cake for breakfast today.”

He hadn’t known why he recalled that, but it was too late to rethink that now. There’s a faint chuckle, a _giggle._ Tsukishima looks as if he were mulling things over in his own head. There’s a small smile on his face, Yamaguchi can’t help but return it.

Silence settles over them once more. The afternoon sun sets an ethereal glow over Tsukishima, bathing him in golden rays of light. His hair is golden. His eyes are shining. They’re both happy. 

“Tsukki, lunch is over. We should get back.”

Yamaguchi’s hand is on his sleeve, pulling the blond back to their classrooms.

 The remaining periods couldn’t get any longer.

* * *

 

It’s one of those rarer times, when he is allowed to be in a practice match. He watches Tsukishima, all the way on the other side, completely stop Hinata’s not-so-special spike. His eyes stay a little too focused on the blond, almost missing a receive. Tanaka rushes up, and Kageyama performs an unplanned dump.

The next few mishaps plays out to him in slow motion. Tsukishima so gracefully descends back to the floor. His heels unfortunately are not in the right angle to land, causing him to fall on his back. There’s a thump echoing in the gym as everyone goes silent. There are cheers from Nishinoya and a groan from Tanaka.

 Yamaguchi rushes over to Tsukishima. Sugawara beats him to it. A question. A nod. He couldn’t be anymore relieved.

* * *

There’s no split in the road. They always walk straight ahead, yet there is always a time for them to go their separate ways. Unfortunately Yamaguchi leaves first. Tsukishima’s back was all he can see, retreating to his own house. 

Yamaguchi can only imagine Tsukishima’s routine when he gets home. He wonders if there’s anyone to greet him at the door. If he eats dinner before dressing up, or showers before bed. He can only _think_ about the things Tsukishima probably thinks about. Yamaguchi hopes it’s him.

There’s not much he can say about their friendship. Though it may look miserably one-sided and fruitless, the Tsukishima he knows is different from the cold glares and disheartening comments he’s notorious for. 

Yamaguchi laughs at himself as he’s greeted with an empty home.

No one will truly know the real Tsukishima.

He grabs himself a half-drank soda and goes to bed.

Maybe not even Yamaguchi himself.

* * *

 

He’s close to falling asleep. There’s a groan, and self-hatred. He just _couldn’t_ put Pokémon down, can he? From the bright blobs he could just barely make out as numbers through his teary, tired eyes, it was 12:07. His eyes flutter close.  

A bright, flashing light makes them shoot back open. An annoying, loud tune is the only thing one could hear in the room. He knew who it was immediately; after all, it’s only Tsukishima he had set this particular song to. 

He picked it up and groggily managed a greeting. On the other end, Tsukishima seemed slightly disturbed. There’s a long string of words, each one leaving Yamaguchi on edge. Not okay. Can’t breathe. Lungs disabled. Choking. Frozen. Yamaguchi thinks it’s a panic attack. It’s not violent like his, but he’s heard people have different kinds of these occurrences.

It’s immediately rejected. There’s a sigh, and Yamaguchi says maybe he should come over.

“Yes. Please.”

* * *

It’s 6 in the morning, when the sky was a murky blue, just enough for dawn. Yamaguchi turns in his place on the bed. There’s Tsukishima, peacefully sleeping, just as he is meant to be.

Yamaguchi can’t help but wonder if Tsukishima would do the same for him. To go over in the middle of the night with no second thought. 

He reaches out; a touch wouldn’t be so bad. Tsukishima’s cheek is damp. 

Yamaguchi imagines himself crying. Would Tsukishima drop everything immediately to help him? Or would he just ask about it later? He cringes at the latter thought, the pain it would cost him surging through his spine. He shouldn’t doubt his friend like this. Tsukishima isn’t so heartless when it comes down to it. 

He goes back to all their conversations, all the nice things Tsukishima has said when they were alone. All the things no one would believe Tsukishima said if Yamaguchi told them he did. He replays all the hauntingly melancholic texts they exchange whenever one of them was really at a low. He smiles. 

Yamaguchi relaxes as a sleeping Tsukishima tugs on his sleeve and pulls him close. It’s moments like these that remind him of how Tsukishima really is.

* * *

 

“Yamaguchi…”

The sound of his name, long, drawled out, made Yamaguchi immediately stop. Tsukishima’s hand is on his shoulder, fingers lining his silhouette, not that he can see. He looks at Tsukishima, backlit by the lamp posts and accentuated by the moon. His face has an unreadable expression, but his eyes almost give everything immediately away. 

It’s when Tsukishima looks like this, Yamaguchi revels, that the realisation of being utterly and sincerely in love with his friend dawns over him. The feeling comes in, waltzing. He’s so taken, wanting to give everything away in the world just for these moments.

His eyes spy Tsukishima’s, there’s nothing but a look of a smitten boy. Nothing but care, want, content. Yamaguchi himself wants nothing more than to keep all this in a photograph, if only it could encapsulate all the feeling and otherworldly beauty of a memory.

Tsukishima’s lips are slightly parted. It’s as if he wants something, Yamaguchi muses to himself. He knows he wants that something too. He knows neither of them will do it, though. He thinks. 

He grabs Tsukishima by the edge of his collar, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss. There’s the taste of meatbuns, long forgotten in his hand. They both love it. It’s a thought. The two of them kissing under the pale moonlight of the dark blue sky, the moon and the stars watching them.

Yamaguchi feels down. It’s not a memory.

Tsukishima pats Yamaguchi’s head.

It’s just a thought.

“Good work today.”

It will _always_ be _just a thought_.

**Author's Note:**

> uhh to clear things up, it's not a panic attack. bless


End file.
